Nieenuvaquenta
by Lily Ardellian
Summary: The tale of Elwen Thranduilion, child of Eryn Lasgalen, during her childhood and early years in Imladris
1. Legolas' Account

_Disclaimer: I hold no claim on the characters of the Lord of the Ring, except those I have created._  
  
I am Legolas Thranduilion or Legolas Greenleaf as I have come to be known by those who dwell in Middle Earth. I am son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood of sinister repute. Once it was known as Eryn Lasgalen, Greenwood the Great in the common tongue. And once, in the fair halls of my father, dwelt my younger sister Elwen. Fair was she and no doubts that her beauty has not diminshed by her passing into the Undying Lands.  
I suppose I shall discover it when I set foot in Valinor.  
  
Since the passing of our mother into the West, she was the only thing that shone in the darkening of the great forest. Father loved her dearly when she was born into the world. However, Mother decided to pass into the West soon after Elwen's birth and from then on, Father no longer sought her company. I think it is because Elwen has the beauty of our mother and her spirit as well.  
She was my light under the shade of the trees, a little being that was ever at my side. Unfortunatly, shadow crept back into the forests of the world and soon it reached us. Orcs grew bold and the spawn of Ungoliant was at large in the forest, eager for the taste of Elven flesh and blood.  
  
Our forces were strong and we weathered all the attacks well. Elwen was less than two centuries old at the time and was beginning to understand the comings and goings of the soldiers. I know of this for she would seek me out at training, followed by her frantic ladies in waiting. Always, she wanted to touch my bows and arrows, attempting to draw the strong string back. After all, she was our father's daughter and wished to fight.  
  
After Midsummer's Eve however, the halls of my father were under assault and he decided it was no longer safe to keep my little sister with us.  
In the dead of the night, we prepared our swiftest riders to take her to somewhere safe. Imladris came to mind and that's where it was decided she would go, to dwell in the house of Cirdan, at the Grey Havens. I can still remember the bitter taste of smoke that rose from the torches we lit, preparing in haste for her departure. Of course she would not dwell long there, we would come and fetch her soon.  
  
Elwen was clad in a dark green cloak that was too long for her and placed in the arms of Menelthir, the Captain of the Guards. She cried when I released her hand, clutching at my tunic. We had entrusted her safety to the best of our warriors, an Elf who had served Father in the days of the Last Alliance. He was a cunning warrior and a good rider. He carried his bow, a strong weapon of our people, black as night and engraved with mithril letters that spoke of his courage in battle.  
His horse was sure footed and also dark, the very best our stables had to offer. Yet my heart was uneasy at the thought of committing my sister to the harsh road. Her name was a symbol of who she was to me, Lady of the Stars. She was indeed the brightest star of my nights.  
"Do not fear, little one, I will ever be with you." I whispered to her in our tongue. She seemed to quieten somewhat, allowing Father to embrace her and give her a small dagger to hold. A ghost of a smile lit her face. Her first weapon.  
  
Her watery eyes stared at me with great pain once more. I unclasped a thin chain on which hung a small leaf wrought in mithril and passed it around her neck.  
"Don't leave, Leg'las." She muttered. I placed my hand on her cheek once more. She barely had mastery over Sindarin at that time and could not pronounce my name properly yet.  
"We'll meet again soon, Elwen. Do not fear."  
  
The swift hooves of the Elven horse bore my sister away and the last I saw of her for four centuries was her crying face in the arms of the Captain of the Guards. Little did I know as I waved at her that she would not reach the Grey Havens safely as planned.  
  
Here follows the story of Elwen, Lady of Eryn Lasgalen of the events that followed as compiled Samwise Gamgee before her departure for the Undying Lands at the beginning of the Fourth Age.


	2. Noro lim! Noro lim!

_Disclaimer: I hold no claim on the characters of the Lord of the Ring, except those I have created._  
  
A horse gallopped hard beneath the trees. The Elven warrior it bore was weary of the road, pressing his charge against him gently, so as not to hurt her. Her tear filled eyes were fixed on his face. He murmured quiet words of reassurance and set her on the saddle in front of him. She gripped the mane of the hair like a seasonned rider. The horse felt alive underneath her, much more powerful than the horses she had been allowed before.  
'Of course, she would be.' He thought as he looked at the little princess. Her dark hair was all but hidden by the cloak she wore but strands of it had escaped and were whipping in the wind. All Eryn Lasgalen was fond of their princess, a sweet, thoughtful child who never caused her father grief, since the passing of her mother into the West.  
Menelthir wondered how such a graceful child could have sprung from Thranduil, a king so hardened by the cares of Middle Earth and Greenwood. Of course, there was no accounting for the good influence of her mother, a lady of great beauty and gentleness.  
But there was no time for that. Alas, the Orc were behind them. He had heard their cries as he escaped the confines of Eryn Lasgalen in the night. Trackers would be on their heals and there was no time to rest or dwell on the road.  
  
Lights caught his eyes and he was wrenched from his reverie by the sight. In the distance, the lights of Imladris shone bright, a welcome sight after the long dark of the road. Soon, he would enjoy food and rest. Soon, his princess would be safe from harm in the care of the Lord of Imladris. He spurred the horse harder. Safety was at hand.  
  
In front of him, Elwen was having quite different thoughts as she stared into the darkness encompassing her. Papa and Legolas were far far away. Just like Mama who had gone. She tried to hold back the tears, remembering the talks of her ladies in waiting.  
_"A lady such as yourself should never cry. You were born for the cares of this world. And crying will make your skin wane like those of the Atani..."_  
Those voices were so far away now, like the smile of Legolas. Elwen bit her lip, but the tears started to fall. Her big brother was not with her, despite all the promises he had made over the years to watch over her.  
He had promised to show her how to shoot a bow and hunt and do grown up things like dance at the feasts of Papa, at which she had not yet been admitted.  
_"I promise you I'll always be by your side, Elwen. That's what big brothers are for..."_  
Her hand fell on the small mithril leaf against her cloak. It felt cool to her tear heated skin. 'Of course, he's always with me when I wear that.' she thought and clung harder to the horse's mane.  
  
Suddenly, cries rang out in the dark, inhuman howls uttered from dark throats and a rain of steel and wood came down upon them. Menelthir pulled out his swords as Orcs swarmed around. He spurred the horse towards Imladris, throwing it into a gallop towards the Last Homely House West of the Sea. The darkened path was now alive with the foul breed, pawing and throwing anything they had to slow them down. The Elf kept his eyes on the target he wanted to reach. The gates of Imladris.  
His cloak flew behind him in the wind as he urged his horse to ride faster. Cursing, he sped under the trees as fast as his mount could carry them.  
"Noro lim! Noro lim!" He cried. For a moment, the orcs fell back but that was not to last. More of them were coming every minute and Menelthir knew that they would not reach the gates in time. He headed for the river that ran, knowing that Orcs feared the clear and pure waters as much as the sun. An arrow pierced through his armour and embedded itself deeply in his arm.  
  
Elwen was aware of the danger from the shouts and the desperation in Menelthir's voice as he urged the horse on. Suddenly his sharp cry of pain sounded behind her. He started to sag slightly in the saddle. She clung to the horse's mane and lay flat against it, all the while praying to be saved.  
"O Elbereth, Elbereth, save me..."  
Menelthir was flug off the horse and Elwen's shout could not make the horse slow down to return to his fallen master. The warrior had given the horse his last command, bear his charge to safety as fast as possible. Elwen turned, only to see the Captain of the Guards stand on shaking legs, raising his sword towards the moon in defiance. A swarm of orcs overtook him.  
The little girl was now crying as the horse galloped, still followed by a team of hunting orcs. Faster and faster, the tree went past her until at last the horse reached the river that ran into Imladris and around it. He prepared to spring into the waters, seeking safety in the protection of the Elves, but to no avail.  
  
An Orc arrow took him in the leg and his step faltered. The wounded horse fell to his knees, propelling the small girl into the swift waters. Elwen's hand clutched at the saddle but found only purchase on the bow of Menelthir. Her cries were drowned in the water as she and the bow were swept away.


	3. Nieenuvar Morwen, child of water and nig...

_Disclaimer: I hold no claim on the characters of the Lord of the Ring, except those I have created._  
  
The waters were calmer as they enter Imladris, nothing more than a beautiful placid stream that waters the valley and makes it a green, living valley of the Elves. However this time, things were different and Arwen felt it in her heart. Her morning stroll had taken her further into the woods and closer to the edge of the woods. She spied the calm waters, knowing that they could be roused in an instant by chosen words. Elrohir had made her promise to stay far from the edge.  
  
Soon, they would go home as night was falling.  
  
A bundle of clothing attracted her eye at the edge of the water. She crept closer, her curiosity overriding the promise. The voices of her brothers faded in the background. Elladan and Elrohir were mock-fighting as usual, swords clashing and taunts exchanged. The bundle looked like clothes fallen from a traveller's pack. Then she saw the bow. It was a matte black, reflecting the sunlight softly. Arwen's eyes widdened and she went to touch the bow. It was of Elven make, she recognised the letters. Although she had not begun reading properly yet, she knew them to be Elvish. Her eyes travelled further down the bow until...  
  
Her scream pierced the morning air and brought her brothers running, swords at the ready.  
"Arwen! Where are you? Arwen!" Elladan shouted, until he saw his little sister pressed against the trunk of a tree, blue eyes wide and her hand pressed against her mouth. He picked her up and hugged her.  
"What's the matter, Arwen? Did you see something?" She nodded mutely and pointed to the bundle where a hand and hair cold clearly be seen. Elrohir went to look as his brother comforted their sister.  
  
What Arwen had thought to be a bundle was an Elf. Or rather an Elfling, no older than their sister, drenched in water and unconscious. She was wrapped in an overly large cloak and looked as though she had been dragged by the waters. Her eyes were closer but her hair was dark brown, like the wood of trees. Her clothing didn't give clue to her identity but it was of good cloth. Elrohir picked up the little Elf.  
"Come! We must bring her to Father at once. I fear she has sojourned in the water overlong." Elladan picked up the bow and ran after his brother towards the heart of Imladris.  
"Do you think she's dead, Elladan?" Arwen asked as they ran. "She looks pretty and I do with a friend, I want her to wake up." Her brother smiled.  
"I am sure Father can make her wake up. He's the best healer in all of Middle Earth." Arwen looked reassured and looked at the bundle held in her other brother's arms.  
  


* 

  
Far away in the forest, Legolas Greenleaf found the slain body of Menelthir. The air was saturated with the foul smell of yrch. There was no trace of his sister. His heart grew weary at this. The orcs had no doubt taken the little princess to their dark keep in the Misty Mountains. He wanted to search longer but he had tarried overlong in the woods, when his father had sent him on a scouting mission. He had looked everywhere for her, as far and wide as he could travel on foot in the same day. Scouts had heard of a battle on the road to the Grey Havens and Thranduil feared for his daughter.  
The prince had begged his father to let him look for Elwen himself. And thus, Legolas had seen their fears come to pass.   
He fashioned a sleight with branches and placed the warrior on it. Menelthir's sword he lay next to him. Many Orcs were dead nearby, hewn in two, a testament to the courage of the Elf whose spirit was now in the Halls of Mandos. Then he would have to tell his father that his child was now in the hands of Orcs. He did not see the body of the horse near the river, but he had smelt it from afar. Without a mount to carry her far, Elwen was most certainly a prisonner or worse.  
  
Legolas started the long trek that would take him back to Eryn Lasgalen. He could not dwell here, looking for his sister. Darkness crept across his brow and to him it seemed the night would be forever dark. His heart tasted the bitter bite of hatred against the Orcs who were condemning him to night.  
  
_'One day, I shall avenge you, little sister. Elwen, you will not be forgotten.'_  
  


* 

  
Elrond Half-Elven was indeed not in the gardens that day, busy reading in his study. When he saw his children burst into the garden shouting his name, he calmly walked down to see what the commotion was about. They explained to him about the child they had found and where they had found her. He summond servants to take the child to be washed and put into clean clothes, after making sure she was not dead. Carefully, he examined the bow but found no clue to the identity of the child. The words spoke only of a warrior great and strong, Captain of Guards.  
Arwen looked at her father.  
"Ada, can we keep her? Please?" She smiled with all the assurance of someone who had never been refused. "I can make her my friend! I don't have any friends..."  
"I do not know, Arwen. Maybe she has parents who are looking for her now. For now, we'll look after her but remember that she may leave soon with her family."  
Elladan piped up.  
"Surely they will come soon, for no one would leave their daughter so unguarded."  
"The bow is that of a great warrior. He is perhaps her father, and ran afoul some Orcs. Keep her things safe and when she wakes, I am sure that she will tell us where she came from and how she can be returned there."  
"Well, I wish she won't remember, no one will come for her and she'll be my best friend in the whole world." said Arwen. Her father frowned slightly at this unexpected outburst from his daughter.  
"That is cruel, daughter, wishing no one came for her."  
"No it's not. Mama and I can take care of her, I can have a sister now." Her already beautiful little face scrunched up in thought and determination. Elrond sighed and crouched near his daughter.  
"We shall see. None can tell what will come to pass in the future." He looked wistful for a moment. "Now go to your mother and tell her of this child." Arwen ran off.  
  
Elrond straightened up and looked at his sons. They had watched the exchange between father and daughter with amusement.  
"As long as she dwells here, I put this child in your care, my sons. Treat her like a sister." Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a look. Another sister? Their lives were not going to be worth much.  
  


* 

  
  
Arwen's wish came to pass and no one came for the little girl. Neither did she remember who she was when she woke up. She held a mithril leaf in her hand, small and unfurled, hung on a fine chain. Celebrian took great care of the child, treating her like a daughter until she was healed from her watery sojourn.  
Nieenuvar Morwen they called her, for she had come in water like that flower and at night. From that day forth, Imladris has two princesses.  
  


* 

  
  
_ Author's note from the Red book of Westmarch  
It always struck me as strange that Thranduil did not send messengers to Rivendell for his daughter. Lady Elwen and later, Queen Arwen explained to me that, although Elrond was considered greatly among Elves, King Thranduil had a stubborn streak of dislike for him at the time, no doubt spring from some rivalry during the time of the Last Alliance.  
It would, in time heal but the King of Mirkwood did not think to send messengers to him once Cirdan had confirmed that Elwen had not reached him. Lady Elwen said she bore no ill thoughts against her father for this oversight._


End file.
